...the Endless Repetition Of An Ordinary Miracle.

Immersing Oneself In The Problems Of A Book Is A Good Way To Keep From Thinking Of Love.

Istanbul Is A Vast Place. There Are Very Conservative Neighbourhoods, There Are Places That Are Upper Class, Westernised, Consuming Western Culture.

How Much Can We Ever Know About The Love And Pain In Another Heart? How Much Can We Hope To Understand Those Who Have Suffered Deeper Anguish, Greater Deprivation, And More Crushing Disappointments Than We Ourselves Have Known?

I Need The Pain Of Loneliness To Make My Imagination Work.

We Had No Desire To Live In Istanbul, Nor In Paris Or New York. Let Them Have Their Discos And Dollars, Their Skycrapers And Supersonics Transports. Let Them Have Their Radios And Their Color Tv, Hey, We Have Ours, Don't We? But We Have Something They Don't Have. Heart. We Have Heart. Look, Look How The Light Of Life Seeps Into My Very Heart